


The Question

by ayesakara



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayesakara/pseuds/ayesakara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mel and Lindz ask Justin for a favor. Can he oblige?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Question

**Author's Note:**

> Written for qaf_darefic in September 2005.
> 
> Dare: In season 1, after 110, Justin went to live with the munchers, and thus is very close to them and to Gus.  
> Therefore, in season 3, the girls ask him to be the father of their next child.
> 
> Author's Note: This is obviously AU. Because of the premise, there are some fundamental  
> changes from events that happened in canon. For instance, in season 1, Gui never happened and  
> in season 2, Justin never left Brian for Ethan. The rest is all here.

The stroke of the brush is brisk against the canvas. Your senses fill with the sounds of the tiny strands sweeping over paper and the smells of fresh paint, your hand a blur before your eyes, as the colors come out vivid and vibrant and clean.

Please think about it, Justin. We wouldn’t have asked if we didn’t really mean it.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, you push the voices away—drowning them in a sea of cobalt and emerald and gold, your eyes focused firmly on your task. Here, you think as you dab your paintbrush into a new color and bring it up again, a touch of brown to bring out the depth it requires. Stroke, stroke, stroke, you go on painting, trying not to think of the conversation you had just a few hours ago.

The flecks of gold merge with the more sultry green and you finally see the resemblance that you’d been working on emerge before you. Hazel. Such an ordinary sounding name for a color, which becomes so extraordinary when taken in context with a subject as thrilling as the one alive in your conscience.

But do you really think it’s the right time?

Baby, we’re both ready and this time we’ve decided that I want to carry the baby.

I didn’t mean for you, Mel. I meant… for me.

Sweetie, we’ve seen how you are with Gus. We know you will be perfect.

 

Your hand pauses in mid-stroke as you feel yourself scowling. You never really understood why people always assumed you would be fine, all right, or perfect for a task. Your dad thought you’d fit just fine at Dartmouth. Your mom thought you’d be all right even if your dad wouldn’t pay tuition for PIFA. Brian thought that if you played with the computer long enough, you would be perfect with your art. Fuck this. You stab the brush against the canvas and feel your teeth gritting.

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you lower the brush and turn to look at the computer. Well, you know that at least one person got it right. The computer really had been a tremendous help. Even if it took you a while to give it a try.

You feel the pinch in the fingers of your right hand where you had been gripping the brush too tightly and realize you’ve been overdoing it all week. It would do you no good if you started getting cramps right in the middle of the semester. There are still two more assignments for you to submit and they are nowhere close to being finished. It’s time to take a break.

You put the brush down, cover the canvas with a plastic sheet and walk into the bedroom, stripping off your paint-spattered clothes.

You step inside the bathroom and as you open the tap in the sink to splash some water on your face, you pause and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin has always been a little too pale for your liking, you think as you consider yourself. Your built is slight and slim; what many call the quintessential twink physique. However, your shoulders are strong even if they are somewhat slender. You have a straight, lean posture that speaks of confidence over your capabilities and talent. And while there are some who would consider you a child, you know too much has happened in the last year or so to leave you feeling like one. There are days you feel much too grown up inside.

You also know that Brian has always treated you like an equal, even when you were most certainly a child, not to mention acting like one. Unlike most other people around you, Brian doesn’t berate you for having an opinion, and instead has always stressed your need to have the freedom to decide things. With Brian, you always feel like a man. Strong and mature.

But does that make you ready for this? You frown at the mirror. Is it time yet?

You know you owe a lot to the girls. Lindz has always been the biggest proponent of your art and your talent. And Mel has always been very supportive and willing to fight on your behalf at a moment’s notice—even if sometimes her perspective is skewed because of her preconceptions.

You still remember that day a year ago when you’d walked out on Brian after the incident with the Zucchini man. You couldn’t find a bus in the pouring rain so you’d walked back the two miles to Mel and Lindz’ place on foot, heartbroken, soaking wet, and looking miserable. Lindz had taken you upstairs to settle you down in your old room and before she could intervene, you’d heard Mel leave the house ranting and raving about Brian being an asshole and how she was going to teach him a lesson. You remember pacing in the room, thinking this had been a mistake. Maybe you should’ve gone somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

She’d returned just before midnight, this time ranting about Brian being a coward and a pussified fag, because who else but a fucking loser would hide his visits to the hospital from a sick, hurt boy. You’d come out of the room and stood on the landing in shock, hearing Lindsay’s soothing tones as Mel had scoffed that it was a good thing you had come back because Brian didn’t fucking deserve you. Hell, he hadn’t even been man enough to come and talk to you while you’d been in the hospital. He’d spied on you from behind the side screen, keeping a fucking silent vigil, every fucking night.

You’d only waited to grab a jacket before you’d gone bounding down the stairs and were out of the door before either of them could stop you. You’d found him at Babylon, in the backroom, indulging in his usual pain management techniques. You’d told the trick kneeling before his crotch to get lost and then you’d grabbed Brian’s shoulders and shaken him hard as you’d stared into his eyes and pleaded.

Why? Why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me you’d never been to see me at the hospital when you’d been there every fucking night?

But the look in his eyes, the flecks of gold in that sea of shimmering green, had given you all the answers to your questions. It was the same look he’d worn when you’d slid the blood-stained scarf from around his neck, hidden under his shirt all those weeks, that first time he’d made love to you after the bashing. Hidden, out of sight—like always. Every action veiled and secreted and every speck of emotion buried away from prying eyes. Or so he’d hoped.

You’d touched his face and repeated the words you’d spoken not too long ago.

It was not your fault.

You’d only hoped he’d believe you this time.

That was when ‘the rules’ had been established. He’d told you that the two of you were not a pair of dykes marching down the aisles, wearing matching Vera Vangs. That if he was coming home to you, it was because he wanted to, not because there were locks on the door. And you’d told him that there were some things you wanted too.

He’d signed the deal with a firm kiss on your mouth—the kiss, which from that point on was only going to belong to you—and you’d moved back into the loft. To date, neither of you has felt the need to break even a single rule.

So in a way, you feel thankful to Mel for the fact that Brian and you are even together now, even if you would never dare say it to her. You have no idea how she got him to admit that he’d been to see you at the hospital every night but you are not so sure anyone else would’ve been able to accomplish the feat. Her conversation with Brian that night is not a topic he likes revisiting with you.

Other than that, life has been pretty much all right. You can’t say you have much to complain about.

Shrugging all these thoughts aside, you step into the shower stall, turn on the water and quickly go about the business of getting cleaned.

You are drying yourself with a towel when you hear the loft door opening and the sounds of people talking come from outside the bedroom. You come out of the bathroom and are shrugging yourself into a pair of sweatpants when a small bundle of bubbling energy comes hurtling into the room and smacks right into your legs.

“JUSTIN!”

You wobble on your feet but grab onto the small boy before you’re toppled. “Gus, what’re you doing here, buddy?”

A pair of familiar hazel eyes look up at you. “I came to play with my new train set and the bouncy ball, because Daddy said I could.”

“That’s great.” You smile, playfully ruffling his hair. “Are your moms here?”

“Nuh uh.” Gus shakes his head and then blurts out. “Do you have cherry sodapops and fries?” Cherry sodapops are the latest gastronomical delight you’ve introduced him to.

“No, but I could get you some,” you reply, realizing you are hungry as well.

“Please, Justin, would you get me some cherry sodapops and fries?” The two year old implores, his long eyelashes blinking with an allure he’s not yet aware he possesses.

“No, he won’t,” Brian pokes his head inside the bedroom, still dressed in his Armani from work. “I am making you a hot dog and a banana milkshake for dinner just like you asked.”

“But Daddy…”

“You can have some milk and Oreos later on if you want.”

It’s a game you’ve seen them play a hundred times before and you could never tire of it. You never realized how conscious Brian would be about his little boy’s diet until you saw him take care of the child for the first time. Brian’s all for spoiling the kid rotten because he never had that as a child, but when it comes to food, he yells his head off if he ever sees anyone feeding Gus junk food in his presence. You should only know. He’s yelled at you enough times for the very reason.

“But Daddy…” His son is no less determined. Cut from the same cloth and all.

“Why, Justin?” Brian puts a hand on his hip and looks at you. “Tell me if we should allow Gus to watch Spongebob after he’s eaten his dinner?”

“Hmm.” You tap a finger to your cheek as you pretend to think “I think we should.”

“Okay. But then he’ll have to be a good boy and listen to what I am saying, won’t he?” Brian turns back to his son. “Gus, will you be a good boy?”

“But Daddy, I was a good boy today when I was at your office too, wasn’t I?”

“You went to Daddy’s office?” You pipe in, knowing it’s in your best interests to divert the boy’s attention if you are to avoid Brian having a meltdown over junk food.

“Yeah, and guess what I did there?”

 

“What did you do?”

“I sat with Daddy while he worked and he put up this big picture of a man wearing black shoes in the confetti room...”

“The conference room,” Brian corrects him, throwing you a grateful look.

“The confetti room!” Gus giggles.

“He did?” You try to hide your smile.

“Yeah, and then he turned the lights off and there was a slide show like at pre-school when Mrs. Shellie was showing us pictures of trees and bugs and the mountains on Wednesday, only the man did not tie his shoes and he didn’t even fall when he ran in that movie Daddy played for all those people.”

You stare at him in your practiced wide-eyed wonder. “You’re kidding!”

“No, but that’s because Daddy said it’s only a movie and it’s not real, and I watched the whole thing, and I didn’t even make any noise just as Daddy asked me not to.”

“Really?”

“YES!” He turns and bounds at his father, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I was a good boy, wasn’t I, Daddy?” Gus looks up at his father.

“You were the best, Sonny-boy.” Brian teasingly rubs a finger to his son’s nose.

“Does that mean I can sit in the confetti room when you turn off the lights and play another movie?”

“Only if you are a good boy right now and go over there and play with your trains.”

“Okay, Daddy.” And that is the end of that. Gus runs to his designated corner, the sodapop all forgotten, and is soon lost in his toys.

You shake your head at Brian in mock-disappointment. “And just when he said, ‘Please Justin.’”

“God, he’s been Please-Daddying me all day long.” Brian rolls his eyes.

You stare at Brian. Gus was with him all day long? “How did he…?”

“I don’t know.” Brian shrugs. “Lindz and Mel had an appointment or something and couldn’t find a sitter on time. So they brought him to the office. He spent most of the time at the daycare on second floor.”

“Ah. I see.” You feel your eyebrows rising in your forehead. When the girls met you at PIFA this afternoon, they told you they had found a sitter for Gus. They never said the sitter was Brian. You feel like shaking your finger at someone.

“What?” He’s looking at you in that weird way that tells you he’s been practicing reading your face.

“Nothing.” You look away from him abruptly, and walk to the kitchen counter. “You want to order Thai?” you ask as you peruse the takeout menus. You need to gather your thoughts, be surer of where you stand, before you discuss any of this with Brian. “I wanted to try that basil and prawn thing we talked about last time.” There’s no answer so you turn and find him standing at the bedroom door, still looking at your with the same expression on his face. Fuck. He knows you’re hiding something. He always knows. “Brian?” you prompt him anyway.

He looks at you a long moment before finally shrugging. “Go ahead. I am gonna get cleaned up.” And with that, he disappears into the bedroom, closing the shutters behind him. You stare at the closed doors for a few seconds, your mind awhirl with conflicting thoughts, and then pick up the phone and order dinner.

************

You found a long time ago that you are not extremely patient with children. You like them just fine, as long as they behave themselves. You got along with Molly at home most of the time, but the moments she chose to be bratty and whiny with you were the hardest on you, and there were plenty of times like those. You realized you could only put up with brattiness for so long before it started to grate on your nerves.

You sometimes wonder how others put up with you.

Fortunately for you, though, you found Gus to be a very sweet child. This was something that was particularly helpful when you were living at Mel and Lindz’s place a couple years back. Gus is a happy child and you love him to death. He rarely ever cries or gives any trouble, and is an all around very hyperactive presence, full of boundless energy. Which is a good thing for the simple reason that Brian is even less patient with children than you are, and he gets along great with Gus.

You also realize that while Gus’s vivaciousness made it impossible not to fall in love with him, another reason why you would do anything for him is because he’s Brian’s. Even back in the early days when it was mostly lust rather than love that pulled you to this enigmatic man, you adored Gus because Brian adored him and because you knew that Brian too would do anything for him if the need ever arose.

Staying at the lesbian’s place meant you spent a lot of time with Gus. And because you spent a lot of time with Gus, you invariably spent a lot of time with Gus at the loft too. Brian, of course, never minded. He loved spending time with his son, and you loved spending time with him and Gus loved spending time with both of you. It was one big circle—unavoidably binding the three of you together in a bond that will probably—hopefully—never be broken.

You realize Melanie saw some of that when she thought of you in context with her own child. You like Mel a lot. She’s smart and tough and absolutely no-nonsense when it comes to standing up for what she believes in. You just wish she’d get along with Brian a little. It’s unfortunate, you feel, that no matter what Brian does he can never redeem himself in some people’s eyes. You know that is the second reason why Melanie asked you to be the father of her child.

Or maybe you’ve got the numbering all wrong. Maybe the main reason why she asked you to be the father was Brian.

************

Gus happily consumes his Daddy-made hotdogs—which is the only way he likes them—and the banana milkshake—which he insisted you put some chocolate chips into—without complaint. You have him ensconced in a mountain of cushions in front of the TV, watching Spongebob Squarepants, before Brian leads you to the other side of the loft with a firm grip on your elbow. “There’s a nice bottle of Beam lying here with our names on it,” he throws over his shoulder as he pulls opens the freezer door. It’s Brian-esque for “Out with it!” and you know you can’t hide anymore. He’s caught you looking at him when you thought he wasn’t aware of it too many times during the evening. It’s time to come clean.

You sink down into the futons in front of the windows and are grateful when Brian comes back with two tall flutes, the bottle of Beam, and an icebox. You grab the bottle and have it uncorked and flowing into the glasses before he’s even settled down. You smile at his raised eyebrows and shrug. Something tells you you’re going to need it.

“What?” Brian’s mouth drops open when you finish telling him. “Are they fucking crazy?” He stares at you incredulously. “They must be completely out of their minds.”

You fight to hide your grin. God. You knew this was exactly how he’d react. Damn. How the hell did you know this would be exactly how he’d react?

“What?” He stares at you, watching the corners of your mouth twitching. “You think this is funny?”

“Oh come on.” You finally grin. “It’ll be fun. We’ll be related!”

“Oh yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Lesbians twice removed.”

You laugh. “Seriously, Brian.”

“What? You think it’ll be fun to share babies by proxy.” He scowls. “I don’t know what the fuck the munchers are thinking even asking you for this.”

“Shh, could you be a little less verbose, please.” You frown at him. “Gus is sitting right there.”

“I always knew they were crazy.” Brian is shaking his head. “And you’re crazy too, if you’re even considering this.”

“Brian, don’t.” You sigh. “They left it for me to decide. Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? I am only trying to put some sense into you.” He looks into your eyes. “You’re too young for this, Justin.”

You stare at him a moment, fighting the urge to disagree with him just to prove that you can. But then you relent, knowing he has a point. “Yeah well, I did raise that concern.”

Brian seems relieved. “Good. And what did they have to say?”

“They said that I didn’t have anything to worry about,” you tell him. “That I won’t have any responsibilities at all.” You try not to pause at the look that passes his face. “That they won’t hold me accountable for anything whatsoever.”

He opens his mouth to say something, his eyes glinting in the dim light—green and gold coming together to form that extraordinary hazel—and then he shakes his head, looking away from you to stare at his son who’s laughing at the TV. “Good for them,” he finally says, his eyes still on Gus. “What did you say to them?”

You put your hand on his arm. “Brian, I do know the deal here, all right?”

He looks back at you. “And what deal is that?”

“That they said the same thing to you,” you reply. “That they said you didn’t have responsibilities to Gus either but that after Gus was born, they never thought twice before coming to ask you for money or support, and that no matter how much you act like you hate it, you love taking care of Gus unconditionally, and that ninety-nine percent of the time they don’t even have to ask you for help, you just give it.”

He looks at you for a few seconds, his throat convulsing, and then he says, “I repeat, I don’t know what the hell they are thinking even asking you for this.”

“They think I’ll be less trouble than you’ve been.” You smile.

 

He snorts. “Yeah well, they obviously don’t know everything.”

“Shut up.” You lightly punch him in the arm. “They think that just because I am young…”

He interrupts you. “You’re only fucking NINETEEN!”

You continue on as if he’d never spoken. “…I won’t have any problems signing away my parental rights to the baby.”

That pauses him. Eyes wide, he stares at you unblinking, slowly absorbing everything.

“Brian?”

He takes in a deep breath. “And what did you tell them?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” you say. “I told them I needed time to think.”

“You mean you actually have to think about this?” He’s scowling now. “You should’ve refused them outright, Justin. This is not the time for you to even be thinking about…”

“Brian!” You cut him in the middle. “I wanted Gus’s sibling to have the same father as him.”

He pauses again, biting his lower lip before he shrugs. “Well, I offered and Melanie refused. Fortunately for me, I might add.”

“But you were the one who turned her down first.”

He grits his teeth, looking truly agitated. “Look, if Lindz had been the one carrying the child, I would have had no problems. Mel and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

Which is only to put it mildly. Mel hates Brian for the simple fact that he never signed away his parental right to her. You and he both know this is the real reason why Melanie has asked you to be the father. She has never forgiven him that transgression. The transgression of falling in love with his son.

He shifts on the futons, trying to find a comfortable position. “Point is… that even after I changed my mind, Mel didn’t want it to be me.”

“We all know why that is.”

“So she asked you.” He shakes his head. “Of all the people in the whole wide queer world, the only person she could think of was a nineteen year old kid.”

You feel yourself bristle. “I am not a kid.”

“Well, you’re not exactly mature if you’re even entertaining this idea.” He makes a face.

You stare down at your hands before lifting one to run through your hair. Then you look at him again. “Lindz said this was the next best thing.”

His brows come together. “Lindz said…?”

You don’t let him finish. “And I happen to think she may be right.”

He stares at you, looking befuddled. What the fuck are you talking about? You can almost hear him ask.

Honey, I love you and you know I wanted our second child to have the same father. But if it’s not going to be Brian, then I’d love for it to be you. You know why, don’t you?

“It would be best for Gus, I mean,” you finish.

Something changes in his eyes as the pieces suddenly fall in place. “What the hell are you…”

You suddenly lean forward and press your lips to his to keep him from continuing. He’s taken by surprise and for a second or two doesn’t respond. But then his mouth opens and he sighs as you kiss him soundly for a long moment, his mouth warm, his taste sweet—like always. You lean back and stare into his eyes, knowing you are not in the mood to take what he would want to say next. “Brian, stop! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to say anything. Frankly, I probably shouldn’t even give a damn what you think about this.” You sigh. “But as it so happens, I do care what you think so I want you to shut up now because you’ve said enough, and I don’t want you to say anything stupid or hurtful or childish, so please just stay quiet, and don’t say a word.”

He frowns. “Justin…”

“I said, quiet. This is my decision, so let me think about this.” You touch his face as you stare into his eyes. “And thank you for caring enough to say all that you’ve said. I know you only said it because you love me, even if you’d never admit it, but I do appreciate it, okay?”

He shakes his head and snorts. “Fuck, they’ve already done their damage. You’ve turned into a lesbian too…”

So you kiss him again, this time holding his face in your palms to do a proper job—with tongue and teeth. When the kiss ends, you’re both slightly panting, and you let yourself fall back into the futons with a groan.

“Don’t worry too much, okay? They might turn me down too.” You look up at him, a crooked smile on your face. “Because I don’t think I can sign away my rights like that either.”

He looks mostly amazed as he looks into your eyes, leaning over you with an elbow resting on the cushions. “Where did you get to be such a clever devil?” he whispers in your ear, his voice thick with laughter, as he slings an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him.

You snuggle against his chest, the sounds of Spongebob washing over your senses. “I learnt from the best.” You smile.

************

When the girls come to pick up Gus, you hover behind Brian as he speaks quietly to Lindz. You’re relieved when he keeps the topic to Gus’s activities of tonight and says nothing of your conversation with him. Nonetheless, you watch Mel eyeing him warily—no doubt waiting to pounce on him and eat him alive if he ever gave her the slightest chance. He doesn’t, though, and for that alone you know you will owe him a hundred blowjobs.

When he’s gone back into the bedroom, and it is just you and the girls, you tell them that you will see them tomorrow. They look at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something more, but you just smile calmly at them and shrug noncommittally. “Tomorrow,” you repeat, and they nod, turning to call the lift so you can finally slide the door shut.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring. You don’t know what Mel will decide. You have no control over anyone else’s actions. The only control you have is over your decisions.

And you know you’ve already made yours.

You walk to the TV and pick up the remote to eject the Spongebob tape and put it back in its case, keeping it in the shelf for the next time Gus comes to visit his father.

It doesn’t matter at what age you become a father. You know you’re young, probably too young to even think about this. But there are pros and cons to any decision one makes in any given situation.

All you know for now is that at no matter what age you become a father, you would never sign away your rights to your child.

After all, that was what you learnt from the best.

 

*****************

THE END


End file.
